Red
by Reigen Doki
Summary: Five outfits that changed Jim's life. Could be Kirk/Spock, if that's how you want to read it. Inspired by Lorrie Morgan's song Something in Red. Rated for a couple bad words.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Star Trek. Nor do I own Lorrie Morgan's song **_**Something in Red**_**. Which heavily inspired this…like, super heavily.**

**This is utterly crack. Enjoy.**

**Can be taken as romance or epic bromance, though you might have to squint a bit for the latter.**

… … .. . .. … …

_Red_

He hated the red uniforms. Not because they were conformist, he couldn't care less about that. And not for the trim, which was actually pretty flattering on him. No. He hated them because he'd always had something of a ruddy complexion as a kid and, while he'd grown into a pleasant golden tan, the red uniforms made him look ruddy. In his opinion, it took a rare few to cut a figure in the ostentatious red of the academy, and he just wasn't one of them.

He was one among many. It wasn't like his particular uniform stood out in the sea of red.

And yet…

And yet when those brown eyes levied on him, scanning him, memorizing him, he couldn't help but feel lightheaded. He couldn't help but feel he really stood out. Like he'd somehow made such an impression.

Like he'd turned his head.

… .. .

_Green_

It was an awful shirt. McCoy said it made him look like a pregnant Reglian cat. Sulu looked ready to cry. Scotty hadn't said anything. Chekov had giggled. Uhura went pale. Uhura went pale because _she_ had composed to cultural brief. Uhura went pale because she understood exactly what Jim was doing. Uhura went pale because Jim was beaming down in that awful shirt. It was the only one he'd had, a gift from the Admirals as some kind of joke, no doubt. But all the same, that awful wrap shirt was the only one he had in green

Green was a poignant color in many cultures.

Spock knew, when he saw that awful shirt, exactly what he was telling him. He knew the Jim had come to this stupid delegation party _specifically_ to get him. He knew that, by the deathly grip on his arm, T'Pring knew as well.

In spite of his unfailing confidence, there was a look in Jim's eyes.

A look in his eyes that whispered "Please come back to me."

… .. .

_White_

It was itchy. And hot. And really breezy, now that he thought about it. He hadn't really noticed, when he was kneeling in the fucking sand, burning his knees through the seemingly flimsy material. Now, standing on this damn _mountain, _he noticed how utterly breezy it was. If that wasn't enough, cloud were rolling in. He was on an arid planet, for fuck's sake. One that didn't see water every decade, let alone every year or so. And the only other person with too much dignity to suck it up and pretend they weren't sweltering was McCoy. Everyone else was too busy being enthralled.

Well, so was Jim, but that was beside the point.

And Spock _did_ look good in that traditional garb, even if it was scratchy as all hell.

The rain let loose at the end of the ceremony. Everyone present seemed surprised, something about a good omen. Jim was just surprised to find the traditional garb was partially see through when wet. Good omen or not.

Well, everyone did call them the perfect pair.

… .. .

_Blue_

It was…adorable. No one else would agree with him when Spock was present, but it was. It was the perfect shade of blue, the same deep color as the science uniform. Little stripes on the sleeve denoted a captain though. It was so small, too, small compared to Jim's hands, just like it's wearer. He still couldn't get over the little boy in his arms. Wide eyes stared up at him with a curiosity that just spoke of trouble when he grew up. Jim said he had his father's nose and chin. McCoy eyed him seriously, removing a scope from one pointed little ear where he was doing a checkup to give it a pointed gesture.

He looked so much like his father in his little science uniform.

Jim couldn't get over that either.

And Spock would eye him warily when he bounced the little one on his knee, constantly prepared to intervene, but completely trusting. And Jim couldn't picture him growing up as anything but his father's son.

But still, the baby was brand new.

… .. .

_Red_

He hated the red uniforms. They made him look like an over ripe tomato. Part of that was on him: desk duty had done a toll on his figure. The color still made his complexion ruddy, and there was no way he was going to blame that on the fact that he'd been crying. Especially not with Klingons in the room. It was hard to cut an imposing figure when you were seconds from blubbering. So he stood prim in that red uniform, a size larger than the year before.

The other officers present were wearing red too.

And yet…

And yet those brown eyes watched him with a hint of amusement, memorizing him. And he felt light headed, and couldn't help but feel like he stood out. Like he was the only one wearing red in the universe.

Like the first time he'd turned his head.

… … .. . .. … …

**So…super short little thing. Think I should do one from Spock's point of view?**


	2. Chapter 2

**By popular demand, Spock's POV during the previous incidents.**

**I don't own Star Trek.**

… … .. . .. … …

_Red_

The desert on Vulcan was red, a solid sea composed of individual grains of sand. It was impossible to identify a single grain, and track it through its motions on the heavy winds. The students, dressed in red, pressing together and shifting apart as they moved, a single organism made of many pieces, were vaguely reminiscent of the sand. It was, quite nearly, impossible to look out at them and identify a single cadet. The lines of ostentatious red blending together, seemingly seamless.

It was reminiscent of the defensive method of patterning evolved in zebras.

And yet…

And yet he could not help but memorize those lines, scrutinize them and identify them from any distance. He could not help but feel heavy-headed. He could not help but feel drawn to pick those lines out, like somehow they made an impression.

Like he'd turned his head.

… .. .

_Green_

It was an awful shirt. He had said nothing, when it first arrived, though he was the only to refrain from doing so. The color was, as the only redeeming factor, the only thing of interest. It held something of an importance in his culture and his life. Spock had not even thought of it, when he had been called to stand beside his betrothed. He had no reason to consider it, when he left. It had been another anomaly of human pranks that were of little consequence. But it was, undoubtedly, the only one he had in green.

Many messages came in the color of jade.

Jim knew, when he put that awful shirt on, exactly what kind of scene he was making. He knew Spock would see him at this stupid delegation party _specifically_ interpreting his message in the only way it could be taken. And he could see, by her emotional reaction, that T'Pring knew as well.

In spite of his belief in his decision, Spock was hesitant to categorize the look in his eyes.

A look in his eyes that whispered "Please come back to me."

… .. .

_White_

It was unpleasant. And cool. And the air was disturbingly stagnant, the more he took it into consideration. He had not noticed, when he was kneeling in the sand, mind absent. Now, standing on the mountain, _aware_ again of the world around him, he noticed there was only a faint breeze. As if to add to the chill, clouds were rolling in. He was surprised, seeing them in the desert at this time. It did not rain often. Indeed, only once on average every 11.13 years. So the inward bound clouds were unprecedented. Only McCoy was so disrespectful as to loudly voice his opinion on the weather. Everyone else was too enthralled.

Honestly, so was Spock, but that was highly irrelevant.

And Jim _did_ look so very brilliant in that traditional garb, no matter how unpleasant it was.

The rain began to fall at the end of the ceremony. It was an auspicious sign, if not an utterly surprising one. Spock was less than thrilled for them to be soaked through entirely, their attire clinging and see through. Good omen or not.

Well, everyone did call them the perfect pair.

… .. .

_Blue_

It was illogical. Everyone else refrain from such actions and comments when he was present, but they agreed when they thought he was not observing. It was exactly the shade of blue used in Starfleet's science uniforms. Unsurprisingly, it was also the first captain's shirt issued in science blue. It was large, on the little body that fit so easily in his hands. He could only stare down in silent wonder. Wide little eyes stared back up, filled with a curiosity that promised years of trouble. Jim said he had his nose and chin. McCoy expressed exasperation at the general disregard of a small, pointed ear in his hand.

There were undeniable similarities between he and his son.

He could admit it was…pleasing.

And he watched as Jim bounced him on his knee with a genial comfort in the situation, completely trusting, and relieved to simply watch. And Spock could not begin to imagine how he would grow with the influences in his life.

But still, the baby was brand new.

… .. .

_Red_

The red uniforms were impractical. They stood out, like a target on contrasting backdrops. It was impossible to mistake the color as anything but a point to aim at. He felt exposed, sitting in the middle of a room as the only one present in the color. Especially with Klingons in the room. And even as others entered in the color, he felt they stood as a single, large target. Even prim and proper, the color was less a defensive choice than a strategic insult on the oppositions aiming skills.

They blended into a metaphorical barn side, a single entity to hit.

And yet…

And yet with a hint of amusement, he picked out that singular, confused form, memorizing. And his head felt heavy, recalling each line and distinguishing them with ease. Like he was the only one wearing red in the universe.

Like the first time he's turned his head.

… … .. . .. … …

**So I'm not sure I like this one as much, but it does have a bit of charm to it, I think. And this'll be the end of it. I hope you liked the second chapter as much as the first.**


End file.
